Tangled Up In You
by LauranTheBiscotti
Summary: A series of short John/Sherlock conversations and one-shots but they DO have a story line behind them ! Definitely Johnlock ! xoxo PLEASEY PLEASE R&R !
1. Flag Pole and Africanized Bees

**A**

John woke up to the sound of a drill. This would not be abnormal in any other household-an indicator of a project or maybe even a bit of DIY- but in 221B waking up to the sound of a drill was down right terrifying. For a moment John debated getting up and investigating, but then he remembered that given the source of the drilling, and witnessing whatever (or whomever) his mad flatmate was drilling into would only make John an accessory during the fact. He rolled into a ball and pulled his duvet over his head.

**B**

2 hours later John rose for work. He lingered as long as he could in the shower,trying to keep his mind off what Sherlock could be doing in the other room. Unfortunately the more you try not to think about it, the more your mind focuses on it. So,while shampooing his hair, John came up with at least twenty possible explanations for the drilling, the most worrying being:

1-Sherlock was dismantling something, such as a table,chair,etc (please God not again)  
2-Sherlock was building something horrid,like another guillotine (That reminds him; he owes Mrs. Nesbitt next door a cat)  
3-Sherlock was experimenting on teeth (Must remember to sleep lighter the next week)  
4-Sherlock was mixing concrete in the sink again  
5-Sherlock was screwing chairs to the wall .Again.  
6-Sherlock was fixing something HE broke (John had a good laugh at that one)  
Most of all,John not to think of the probability Sherlock was performing a lobotomy (5:1).

**C**

John dressed and ,towel-drying his hair, wandered in to the kitchen. Sherlock was sitting cross-legged on the floor examining what appeared to be an instruction was a suspiciously long box on the floor along side an electric drill. John cast about for the reason for the drill-ah,yes. Sherlock had drilled holes in the floor and..John looked closer, yes,yes, the ceiling as well. John hoped it was for a pole, like for...  
Oh, swallowed hard,hoping he was wrong (he hated to admit it but he hoped he was right, more-so).  
John pulled out a carton of eggs while he waited for the water to boil.  
He tried to think of other more...sane reasons for Sherlock to have a pole up (flag pole, lamp post,bird house)...but his mind kept coming back round to the first.  
John cracked an egg in to the boiling water and twisted the flame up "Starting a night job?"  
Sherlock looked round "What?"  
John blushed "Nothing." and busied himself with making the tea and concentrated hard on NOT picturing Sherlock pole dancing. John never appreciated having an early-morning job as he did that morning.

**D**

John came home late that night and stumbled through the door, head bleary with exhaustion. He shook his head at the pole,now with tabs running up one side, and wandered into his room,shedding clothing.  
John was climbing into bed when the realization hit him and he back-peddled into the living prayed he had been wrong, that he was so tired that he was examined the tabs running up and down the pole.  
"No...please God no."  
Just what he was afraid of ...skin, drying on tabs like little had to been at least 200 samples.  
He looked at Sherlock,lounging on the sofa with a book on apiary. They had argued on the subject of keeping bees in the flat before (NO Sherlock, what if someone is allergic and even worse, what if they become Africanized? _"I never thought of that."_ "NO bees Sherlock) but John had bigger problems.  
John rounded on Sherlock. "Is that..skin?"  
Sherlock turned a page 'Yes."  
"HUMAN skin?"  
Sherlock didn't even blink. "Yes."  
John opened and closed his mouth a few times. "Of course it is."  
"Is that a problem?"  
John barked out a laugh. "Is that..no at all." John rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands,exasperated. "And Mrs Hudson wonders why we don't have friends round." He shook his head. "Christ, human skin."  
Sherlock looked at John curiously,eye brow raised.  
"Not Christ, John, merely prisoners, blackguards, the more dead than others."  
"More dead than others." he repeated in wonder. He threw his hands up in exasperation "That's it,I'm going to bed."  
Sherlock had heard the affection in his voice, had noticed the 'we' but said nothing of it.  
It wasn't time.  
He nodded and turned another page. 'Goodnight John.'  
The only reply was the bedroom door closing.


	2. Epi Pen and Coffee Stains

A new case, a new day.

This time it was murder in Picadilly Circus, thousands of people milling around in the square and no one saw a thing.

And the bodies were piling up.

John and Sherlock arrived at the scene forty-five minutes after Lestrade initially texted. Sherlock was,as usual, dressed impeccably but John's hair stood on end and there was a coffee stain down one of the sleeves of his jumper.

They had apparently been arguing since they got in the cab this morning, and as they strode across the crime scene their raised words could be heard quite clearly:

"...could have been allergic." John was saying.

"But you're not; I had you tested lack week."

"Is /that/ what that pinch was? That's another thing, stop treating me like your guinea pig."

"I'd say you're more of a hedgehog than a guinea pig."

"OH fuck off."

Sherlock pushed ahead through the crowd, mind on the case,uncaring if he elbowed someone but John fell behind,apologizing in Sherlock's wake. John lost sight of Sherlock quickly and stood,disappointed,in the milling crowd.

He knew better by now than to let himself be hurt but...but here was,alone and lost in the crowd. "Just like before I met him." John mused. It was astounding how much Sherlock changed his life, and how easily Sherlock hurt how easily he let himself be hurt.  
"Before you met who?" a low voice rumbled in John's ear, and Sherlock appeared close behind John, body heat radiating off him they were so close.  
John jumped. "Hell, thought I lost you. Finish already?"  
Sherlock said nothing, only looked at him. It was unnerving when he did that and always made John feel like he was one of Sherlock's experiments, about to be dissected or blow up or set on fire or...  
John looked away and cleared his throat. "Right well, what now?"  
Sherlock put his hand on John's back "We keep going. I would be lost without my blogger."  
John wasn't sure if Sherlock was being Sherlock, or if he was trying to irritate him but he let himself be guided through the crowd, hyper-aware of Sherlock's hand on the small of his back, radiating heat through the cloth of John's shirt.

The case was solved the next day and three days later John found a new coffee mug on his beside table, as an apology.


	3. The 5 Senses

**A**

Sherlock heavily relied on his senses for his job,namely his sense of knew how much Sherlock valued his vision and used that fact to persuade Sherlock to eat better, adding extra paprika or chili powder (both packed with the essential Vitamin A) to Sherlock's curry. Sherlock's job depended greatly on the sharpness of his eyes to observe everything. To glean the truth, he observed what he observed, Sherlock deduced and when he has eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how mad it might seem, was be the truth.  
And Sherlock was never wrong.

**B**

Sherlock did rely on his other senses as well, but to a much lesser degree; his sense of touch came in use mainly in the lab in such instances as determining cloth material or the feeling of a cadaver for breaks or fractures, his long fingers fluttering on the joints as John had taught him.  
When Sherlock was on a case, he was completely focused, going without eating or sleeping for weeks if he had to. Sherlock had learned to tune out the basic biological drives of hunger,thirst, sleep,et cetera (he had beat down the drive for arousal/stimulation years ago) during a case, so as to not be overwhelmed by smaller,insignificant matters .This was hard,though, whenever John was around.  
John did not directly put him off; his presence did. Sherlock and John had been living together for over a year now and they knew each other's rythms well. Whenever John entered a room however quietly,Sherlock would always know he was there.  
Something about the Army Doctor aroused Sherlock's somatosensory cortex,so that John didn't even have to speak and Sherlock could feel him. It didn't help that John's cologne and underlying natural smell filled his brain and made him fuzzy. Sherlock tried to pace himself, keeping as far and upwind from John as he could at crime scenes but always-somehow-he came circling back to John's side. And whenever John brushed against him or gave him one of his rare slow smiles Sherlock's fingers twitched on their own accord and he longed to just reach out and touch him.

**C**

It started out small, a hand on the small of his back as they navigated crime scenes,a brushing of fingers, a hand on the arm, but John noticed each touch, warm and soft.  
John thought they were accidents at first, Sherlock subconciously reaching out for something stable and /there/ while he went off in his 'mind palace' but it came immediately apparent the touches were not isolated to those sole events.  
John became hyper-aware of each touch-a caress,almost-when they brushed arms or when Sherlock laid his hand on his shoulder when discussing the MOD to Lestrade- each sole event (that's they were to John, an event of surprising and -in John's case at least-stimulating instances).  
After a while John noticed a pattern, a rise in frequency of incidents, and decided to make a mental journal of when each ..'incident' occurred and what lead up to it, to figure out if it had been happening all along or if he was noticing it now, hence the seemingly increase of occurances. It was like a young woman who becomes pregnant for the first time and notices babies everywhere as if everyone was suddenly with child.

**D**

The first 'event' he noted was during a particularly gruesome case, involving priests and hot wax. Sherlock was being his usual irritating self, stomping around crime scenes,being cold and had just finished a rant on Anderson's stupidity, comparing his IQ to a blob fish, when he turned around suddenly on John.  
His eyes were bright but his expression had softened. "Hand me the scalpel."  
John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock's voice was quiet and warm, a sharp contrast to just moments before. John tried not think of the million things the sudden change could mean,deciding it was Sherlock being Sherlock, and did as he requested. Their fingers brushed and for a second-Sherlock's eyes locked with John's and the back of John's neck prickled, but the moment was gone as soon as it started and Sherlock was knelt down to slice open the vic's eyeball.  
The case was solved in a day.


	4. A Monkey Could Do Your Job

A new day,a new case.

Sherlock plucked a hair from the vic's head and held it to the light. He grinned and moved it side to side in the light. "Oh yes." he said softly.

John stepped closer "Sorry what am I missing?"

Sherlock exhaled noisily and grabbed John's hand,pulling him down to squat beside Sherlock. After Sherlock had dropped his hand John still could feel the pressure, his cool fingers intertwined in his. John shook his head. He needed therapy. LOTS of it.  
"You see it too?"  
John started "Uh,what?"  
"The root, it's not his real hair color." Sherlock stood and handed the tweezers,hair still in their grip, to Donovan. "Here's your how evidence in how long,John?"  
John checked his watch "6 minutes." he grinned up at Sherock.  
Lestrode swore. 'What would I do without you?"  
"Your job."

"A monkey could do your job, Detective Inspector."

John grinned. "That counts Anderson out then."

Sherlock laughed heartily- the first John had heard in a long,long time.


	5. Gravity of the Situation

There was a lull between cases. As always, Sherlock spent most of the day pacing and shooting things. John took away the gun when Sherlock started to eye his jumpers. When John was wearing them.

After the third fire that day was put out,John heaved a sighed and grabbed his keys "I'm going out."

"Case? " Sherlock looked up hopefully.

"Yes the case of the doctor who shot his flatmate because he burnt a hole in his best trousers."  
"I still maintain it was your fault for putting the trousers there."  
"My fault? " John spluttered "How was it my fault I laid MY jeans out on on MY BED?"  
Sherlock shrugged and plucked the violin with a finger. "You know what I am like."  
John resisted a VERY strong urge to throw something at him and stormed out.

He wandered the street for hours, eventually ending up at the 3-story antique store again. He loved antique stores, full of whispers and traces of time. . Each piece had it's own story and a unique history to it. John's shoes whispered on the carpet as he wandered down the aisles,crammed with faux-gold jewelry, sapphire bottles, boats made of sealing wax,dusty typewriters,an assortment of skulls, grinning at him maniacally. "I knew someone who'd love you." he said to them, pausing to run his fingers across the smooth tops.  
He wandered in and out of booths all afternoon and well into tea time. He found a pile of old medical references underneath a plaster pig and,sitting on a three-legged stool, immediately got lost in them.

This is how Sherlock found him hours later, sitting on a low stool, knees to his chest, a pile of crinkled papers on his knee. Sherlock leaned in the doorway and watched him. There was a crease in John's brow as he concentrated on translating some of the handwriting, his finger moving slowly as he read,lips moving slightly. Sherlock left after a while.  
John never saw him.

For the next three days the clinic was very busy, and John came home later and later every night. So it was a great relief when the weekend came. John leaned back in the cab with a sigh. He highly looked forward to sleeping in, maybe even never leaving bed. John grinned. Maybe he could force Sherlock into cooking for once. John thought back to Sherlock's last cooking attempt -a small kitchen fire and a dent in the wall from when the toaster exploded."Hmmm...maybe not."

John was barely in the door before he started toeing out of his shoes. He couldn't wait to go to bed.

"No."  
THUMP  
John jerked awake.  
"Wrong."  
THUMP  
"Oh Goddd." John ran a hand across his face and looked at the clock. Just as he feared, 5AM.  
"Not a chance in Hell."  
THUMP"  
John stomped to Sherlock's room ,promptly ducking a book. "What the HELL are you doing?"  
"Research."  
"How exactly does your research necessitate throwing books at a wall?"  
"Gravity of the situation?" Sherlock smiled.  
John stared at him. "I hate you."  
John yanked his coat on angrily, slamming the front door behind him as hard as he could.  
John wandered through London,ignoring his grumbling belly, and once again ended up at the antique store he had visited a week before. John eagerly wound through the shops to the booth with the plaster pig.  
The reference guides were gone.  
John shoved his hands into his pockets "Typical" he muttered.  
He walked home slowly, ignoring the rain sliding down his collar.


	6. Mycobacterium leprae

**Johnlocked1895 **thanks ! I am pretty new to this,so hopefully my characterization and pacing will get better in time ! I love writing Sherlock stuff. :-)

**Guest **Thanks ! Glad you liked it !

**Akemi713 **I'm glad you liked it. I think Sherlock does a LOT of what he does to annoy John and just generally be a smart-ass :P So this just fit in perfectly :P

xoxox

XXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX OXOXOXOXOXXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXO

John idly flipped through a lab book as Sherlock worked in the freezer. They weren't on a case; John brought Sherlock here so he would stop setting things on fire.

John pulled the coat around him tighter as a chill hit him .They had opened the window due to the smell (_I honestly didn't know the foot would decompose that fast. I am just as surprised as you, John_) and the temperature outside was rapidly dropping with the setting sun.

"Hurry up Sherlock. I've not ate yet."

"You could help me you know." His voice was muffled through the heavy door.

John grimaced "No,ta." John had seen the petri dishes and recognized _Mycobacterium leprae _right off.

John flipped lab book open again, but his mind wasn't on it. His mind was on the past 2 months.

The interludes -what else could John call them but interludes, moments between time?- between them were coming more and more frequent and John was becoming convinced that they were neither accidental, nor purely incidental. They were small but each one set John's nerves -and teeth-on edge. He wanted so bad to say something, do something rash but he was afraid how Sherlock would react.  
Would he yell at him?  
Push him away?  
Or,even worse, laugh at him?  
In the end, what it came down to was Sherlock was John's best friend- his only true friend,really- and John didn't want to risk it. He'd back off and let what happens,happen. If it was meant to be,it would have happened already, _que sera sera _, et cetera.

Well, that is what John told himself, at least.

The fly buzzed lazy circles around John's head and he waved it off but it was back moments later. "Bloody thing." John grumbled, turning in his seat. He rolled the lab book up and turned to swat it at the pest, and froze. Sherlock was standing at the door,watching him.  
Sherlock cleared his throat "Done" it was more of a statement than a question.  
John dropped the book and ran a hand through his hair "Yeah. " He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could. When he had turned and seen Sherlock watching him, with that look on his face, John's chest had tightened and his pulse jumped. God, when did he become a teenager again?

John turned his back to Sherlock and secretly prayed he couldn't see his hands shake as he tried to flatten the book out again,leaning his weight on it and rolling the base of his hand across it.

"Done already? Of course you are. You're like a mad scientist,brilliant yet a bit scary." John rambled.

He felt like an awkward/horny teenager. And he wasn't even gay (probably). Besides, even if he was (he didn't think so...maybe) , what did it matter? Sherlock was married to his work.

Long fingers,cold like the dead, wrapped around his elbow and startled John out of his thoughts. He grabbed the counter right before he fell sideways off the stool. "Christ, you move like a fucking cat Sherlock."  
Sherlock reach past John and grabbed the lab book. "Effect of pterygium morphology on pterygium recurrence in a controlled trial comparing conjunctival auto-grafting with bare sclera excision. Fascinating."  
John shrugged "I looked at the pictures."  
"Not your sort of thing?"  
John smirked "If I wanted to see eyeballs I would look in the mirror. "  
"Or the microwave."  
"Sherlock,the microwave?"  
Sherlock made to answer but John butt in "Never mind.I don't want to know."


	7. Jammy Dodger

John found himself thinking of Sherlock more and more...

[Text Sent] You'll like this. A man came in today,thought he had leprosy, turned out he fell asleep with a jammy dodger in his bed. He was actually DISAPPOINTED he didn't have leprosy,Sherlock.-JW

[Text Recieved]Me too. I would have liked a sample.-SH

[ Text Sent] Of course you would -JW


	8. Rom-Com

Others started to notice the touches as well.

vvvv^^^^

Sherlock and John were after a woman,nicknamed the Black Widow for her signature gear: all black, all leather and extremely deadly.

She was wanted for murder in 6 countries across Europe and Sherlock and John were hot on her heels,literally over and through the back alleys of London.

John kept up the best he could but his short legs were no match for Sherlock's "Go..ahead." he gasped. He leaned against a brick wall, panting hard.

Sherlock turned back and grabbed John's hand. "Need you." and pulled him along. They clattered down the street,hands still clasped together. "Now people will definitely talk." John panted.  
Sherlock smiled back at him "They do little else."  
Lestrade found them an hour later sitting together on a wall,sharing a sandwich. If Greg wasn't so tired and annoyed (he HAD to find a way to put a tracker on the man...) he'd admit it was actually quite a quaint scene: Sherlock and John sat close together so their knees touched. Each had their own sandwiches (John with meat and Cheese, John with cucumber and mustard), but they both nicked the inners from the other's sandwich occasionally, while The Black Widow, real name Maria Cherkov, lay handcuffed to a Yield Sign not 5 feet away.

"What the HELL are you doing?" .  
Sherlock didn't look up. "Having a sarnie."  
Lestrade pulled them down by their arms. "You're supposed to be professionals, please at least act like it."  
Anderson,who just happened to be walking by at the moment scoffed. "Professional what?"  
Sherlock put his hand on John's, his fingers wrapped around his wrist. "Don' would be a waste of energy."  
John considered "Yeah, probably."  
Lestrade saw Sherlock's fingers on John's wrist, the way John's breath quickened.

Greg Lestrade was not a stupid man. He's been on enough dates to know the difference between purely-physical attraction and the attraction between two souls. And he could plainly see this was not just physical.

But given John's loud protests that they were not an item, and the fact John was dating that one girl -Mary?Maria- they were not together. Not by definition at least. As Greg bundled Cherkov into a waiting patrol car,he wondered if they knew how the other felt.  
And he also wondered if he needed to stop watching so many rom-coms.


	9. Giraffe vs Hobbit

xoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxox oxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxxoxoxxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
Sherlock was driving John mad. They'd been case-less for a fortnight now and Sherlock was growing increasingly restless, like a child. Finally John had enough and bothered Molly into letting Sherlock 'borrow' a box of spare body parts.  
Sherlock had not been sleeping well, which is more unusual in that he had been sleepy for once. Sherlock had lay reading on the sofa the night before and rose the next morning with a terrible crick in his was absorbed in stretching his muscles and didn't expect the first snowball.  
THUCK  
It him in square in the back of his head.  
He glared at John, until the second snowball hit him in the shoulder.  
Sherlock grinned. "Aim higher." he yelled across the parking lot.  
"Not my fault you're a bloody giraffe." John called back.  
Sherlock laughed. "Not my fault you're a hobbit."  
Lestrade drew the line when Sherlock started lobbing body parts.  
xoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxox oxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxxoxoxxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo  
John was just coming home when the black car slide to a stop outside 221B Baker Street.

John closed the door behind him with a sigh. "Phone was invented for a reason."  
"I prefer more..personal."  
John snorted.  
"You have quite the effect on my brother."  
"What?"  
"Snow ball fights,giggling at crime scenes. One could almost say you two were quite flirtacious."  
John laughed. "Sherlock? Flirtacious? I don't think he'd notice if someone came out with a big bag labeled FLIRT and hit him upside the head with it. Irene Adler ring any bells?"  
"Sherlock was already spoken for at the time."  
John looked at the man across from him curiously. "Oh yeah?By whom?"  
Mycroft said nothing and John felt himself go pink.  
"I am not actually gay, if anyone cares."  
Anthea smirked behind her Blackberry. John frowned at her. Why did everyone keep thinking he was gay?  
Mycroft tapped his fingers on the side of his umbrella-perhaps to get John's attention back to him again."And Sherlock?"  
"This is I go now?"  
Mycroft waved a hand. "I never said you weren't allowed."  
John slammed the front door behind him and stomped up the stairs.  
Sherlock was sitting upside down on the sofa,feet planted on the course he was.  
When John came in he craned his neck to look up at John upside-down "Mycroft?"  
"Yes do you know what that ...what your brother implied?"  
Sherlook looked at him curiously, quite a feat upside down. "What now?"  
John tried to think of a way to explain it to Sherlock, and shook his head. "Never mind.I'll order out ,alright?"


	10. Crimes of Passion

The case was simply,really: jealous boyfriend, jealous wife, an affair gone awry ...but it fascinated Sherlock. He couldn't understand what made a man so passionate about another man that he would kill for him, and no matter how much John tried to explain,red-faced and stumbling over words, Sherlock couldn't grasp the idea. So of course they went to Bart's first thing in the morning.

John was exhausted but whenever he grumbled to Sherlock ("first day off in a week"..."not even allowed a cuppa" ) Sherlock just waved his hand saying "For science,John, for science.".

John was ready to throttle him and was devising of ways to make it look like an accident when the cab pulled up to Bart's.

Of course, being it was Sherlock, John quickly forgave him and an hour later found Sherlock and John sat side-by-side in the lab, Sherlock peering at the microscope and John at his side, transcribing any notes Sherlock made aloud. Sherlock would occasionally turn aside so John could look into the microscope himself,or to check over John's notes.

This necessitated them sitting close together, and ended up with one of John's legs trapped between Sherlock's.

John honestly hadn't meant to be caught in this position; Sherlock had wanted a second opinion from John so he pulled John closer by the stool he was sat on, shoving John's legs in between Sherlock's. The sudden contact made him gasp. He wasn't expecting it, and the surprise of it caught him off guard. John blinked hard into the microscope trying to focus on the slide, and not the heat emanating from Sherlock. As if he could read his mind, Sherlock leaned in closer, his leg's tightening around John's hips.  
"What do you think?"  
John licked his lips nervously. "Erm well it looks like a normal,perfectly healthy hypothalamus to me. Nothing unusual."  
Sherlock sighed and sat back in his chair. "That's what I was afraid of. Pass me an adrenal cortex."

Hours passed and John wrote the notes Sherlock orated with a shake of his head. Sherlock, the brilliant genius, couldn't figure out that the men loved-truly loved-each other; it wasn't homicide secondary to chemical balance. It was a crime of passion.

Passion, right. John nearly snorted. As if Sherlock would understand that.

Hadn't Mycroft insinuated before Sherlock was still a virgin? John peeked out the corner of his eye at Sherlock. He could and couldn't believe that Sherlock was ...that. John couldn't believe it because Sherlock was,well, amazing. It was everything about him that made it so improbable (_God now I am even starting to think like him): _ the cheekbones, the way his dark,messy curls stood out against his porcelain skin,his full lips...but it was mostly his eyes. They were almost cat-like and at times,predatory but other times...they were spectacular. Sherlock's eyes never stayed the same color, always swirling with greens and yellows and blues, sometimes with little flecks in them- like flecks of gold. On the other hand,He could because Sherlock was,above all things, a pain in the ass to feed. He didn't dare imagine what it'd be like to ask Sherlock to eat healthy for a day,let alone for a blowjob But Sherlock very certainly had the lips for it,round and full. John had pictured many a time those lips around his cock.  
Sherlock raised an eyebrow "Did you get that last note?"  
John started and his pencil slipped from his hand,clattering softly on the linoleum. "Oh Christ."

John ducked his head in lieu of getting his pencil. He was sure his face was burning.

Caught staring,like a school girl. God, what's next, love notes? John could see that happening_ "Dear Sherlock, do you want to blow me, yes or no?"_  
"John?"  
THUMP  
John sat up cursing and gingerly rubbing his head where he'd hit it on the counter . "Dizzy spell." he tossed the pencil on the counter. As he settled in his seat he chanced a look at Sherlock but he had already turned back to the microscope.

"When you are focused again let me know.I may have found an answer."

John sighed deeply as he picked up the pencil. It was going to be a long day.

Molly came in at precisely 3 PM with Sherlock's usual coffee. She saw in one glance how close they were and how John's legs were between Sherlock's,Sherlock's legs stretched out in front of him to surround John completely. Possessively.

Molly knew it would happen-it was inevitable-but seeing it now,here before here, it was a shock to the poor girl.

She froze in the spot, eyes round as saucers, mouth in an 'O'.

Sherlock reached out to take the pencil from John's his hand and scribbles down a set of scribbled a few more minutes then passed it back to John,letting his hand drop to John's leg. John stared down at it, his face darkening to a maroon,as Sherlock's long fingers curled slightly across John's thigh. Tendril of lust curled in John's stomach. He stared down at the notebook before him trying to concentrate but all the lines were blurred together.

The door banged and they both jumped. John self-consciously turned sideways in his seat removing his legs from Sherlock's.

Sherlock looked down at the floor, to the broken ceramic and the rapidly spreading brown stain and quickly deduced what happened. He stood up and stretched. "I think we're done for the day."

John nodded wobbly. "Thank God for Molly" he thought.

Aloud he said : "Just as well. It's teatime."


	11. Concerning Shrunken Heads

The touches stopped for 3 months. Life went on as usual,late-night pursuits and bad take-away but a subtle change had taken over 221B. You wouldn't know it,though, if you lived there but John did and he was happy. Maybe Sherlock did listen to what John said and respected at least some of his wishes after all; Sherlock blew up less dead things and John had 3 dates (none of which went well, and not because of Sherlock for once).Then John was dumped, bound and gagged,off a bridge into the Thames. Sherlock barely arrived there in time, ambulances and Lestrade at his had never seen Sherlock so pale as when he pulled a lifeless John out of the shoved everyone away and dropped down by John ripping off his own stripped John to the waist, wrapping him in his shirt and coat, and pressed his mouth to John's.

_John was floating in the clouds. Everything was so peaceful around him._  
_1-2-3-4-5-..._  
_1-2-3-4..._  
_John turned his head but he couldn't see where the counting was coming from _  
_1-2-3-Please,John,please..._  
_He didn't want to leave but someone was calling him...needed him and he was a doctor,what if lives were on the line? He had to had to go back._

John coughed and grey water spilled over his lips and chest. Sherlock tucked an arm under John and turned him to his side, making soothing noise as he rubbed small circles on his back. "Get it all up,come on John."  
John puked several more times He was dimly aware of Sherlock sitting beside him in the dirt, rubbing his back. John closed his eyes and breathed deeply  
"Christ that was awful." His voice was ragged from the strain and he winced.

"Sh don't talk John. Save your throat."  
Sherlock rolled John carefully onto his back and peered into his face searching to see if he was okay. John could feel Sherlock's gaze upon him and opened his eyes a slit. The flashing lights of the ambulance was glaring in his eyes making them squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sh'lock?" he groped beside him for Sherlock, breathing a sigh of relief when a cold, slender hand took his.

" They're taking you to hospital, 're alright."

Sherlock put his hand on John's cheek and held it there until the paramedics whole time they set John up for the ambulance, Sherlock lingered by his side. John opened his eyes long enough to take in Sherlock -crease between the eyes,frown,hair on end. John wanted to tell him not to worry; he just took in a little water but the jolt of the EMTs loading the stretcher into the back of the ambulance made his stomach lurch and John squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on not puking. The ground spun beneath him and he saw black.  
John rolled his head on his pillow to look at Sherlock .John had been ordered full bed rest and John took full advantage of it, forcing Sherlock to cook and do the shopping (which only happened once...after he came home with 5 pounds of jelly babies,a bucket of lard and some pickles John decided it was best he ask Mrs. Hudson to do the shopping for now on).  
Not that Sherlock wasn't trying, because he was. Sherlock had not left John's side save for books or drew the line at allowing any sort of experiment being done in his room,especially since John was temporarily unable to run from any fire or explosion Sherlock's experiments would inevitably cause.  
Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed,arms laden with books.  
"No more experiments,please, involving human tongues in pickle brine, or shrunken heads or.." He flopped his hand. "You get the idea."  
Sherlock looked up interested. "Shrunken heads?"  
John blanched "Oh,God. NO Sherlock,no shrinking heads in the stove."

Sherlock flapped a hand at him. "Don't be ridiculous.I'll need a dehydrator to do it properly.  
"Please,don't. Please?" John begged but Sherlock was already up and pacing the room.  
"I know where I can find a good dehydrator."  
John flipped over facing away from Sherlock. He already regretted waking up.  
When John woke up again Sherlock was sitting on the floor reading a book, "Concerning Shrunken Heads."  
What had he gotten himself into?  
John was released to work two days later-on his weekend thankfully- and everything was as it was before,John doing everything to keep the flat clean while Sherlock did his best to make it seemed particularly hell-bent on destroying it as of thought he would use to be Sherlock's eccentricities by now but he nearly screamed when he pulled a scrotum out of his held it at arms length and stalked to Sherlock's kicked the door open and brandished the testicles.  
"Sherlock, what the HELL was this doing in my shoe?"  
Sherlock bounced out of bed. "Ah,wondered where you'd gone to."  
"You owe me ."  
Sherlock seemed to notice John for the first time. "Oh,do I?"  
John did his best not to scream. He took a deep breath letting it out in a whoosh. "Lestrade texted me,might have a case for us."  
He had to run to catch up to Sherlock.  
Sherlock was quiet the taxi ride over. He leaned over his legs, elbows on his knees, fingers shook his head and smiled out the window. From ball of energy to deep thought in a matter of didn't move when the cab stopped and John had to tap Sherlock's leg to get his attention. Well, he meant to but the cab lurched to a stop and John nearly ended up with his head in Sherlock's lap. He put his hand out on Sherlock's upper thigh to stop himself from tipping over completely.  
"Erm, time to go." John's face burnt and he was afraid to look at did though, and regretted it. Sherlock still had that look of extreme concentration on his face, but now it was focused entirely on John.  
Sherlock sighed "Yes alright." but he was already gone. For once, Sherlock was the one jogging to keep up.


	12. Jake

It had been raining for a week and Sherlock had locked himself in his welcomed the absence of dead things laying around the flat,and was glad to have a reprise, especially after the house rat incident, but the mad violin music for a week straight was driving him to the brink and back. Plus the fact he has played the same song, over and over, for a week now did nothing for his nerves. He recognized the song but couldn't place it...

The violin screeched,making John's teeth was enough.  
"Right that's it." he grumbled and threw down the paper. He hadn't been reading it anyways, just staring at so hard it should have spontaneously caught fire by now.  
John grabbed his coat. "I'm going out." he yelled at Sherlock's door. There was a pause, then the music started again.  
John slammed the door behind him.

B  
John sat down a the bar and ordered his curled his fingers around the glass, his pinky absent-mindedly tracing small arcs in the condensation.  
"You must really hate beer."  
John started. "What?"  
A man (5'7, 150 pounds, about 35-7 years old, non-married, no STOP thinking like Sherlock...) sat down beside him,grinning. "You're glaring at your beer like you are going to throttle it."  
John flushed and dropped his hand flat to the bar top. "Oh. Yeah. Bad day."  
The other man arched his eye brow as he took a sip of his drink "Want to talk about it?"

C  
John waved for another drink "And then there was the time he shaved a badger in the my bed."  
Jake laughed,resting his hand on John's arm. "God I'm sorry you have to go through that."  
John froze looking down at the hand. Jake followed the glance and withdrew his hand fast "Oh God I'm sorry I thought..."  
At the same time John said "It's OK I'm not but sort of I mean-"  
The grinned at each other,John blushing a deep red. "So uhm..."  
What was wrong with him? This was just some stranger, not Sherlock and yet here he was, blushing like a teenager again. Jake stood up and threw some bills on the counter. "Listen mate I've got an early morning but if you ever want to,you know,talk, vent, whatever" Jake shrugged. "Give me a ring, yeah?" He handed John a slip of paper and their fingertips touched for a felt a familiar tightening in his jeans. He smiled tightly "Yes of course." he stammered. Jake winked and strolled out of the pub.

It wasn't until later,when John was tucked up in his bed, that he realized he didn't think about Sherlock the whole way home.


	13. Jolly

Sherlock lay on the couch,hands folded under his chin as John got ready for his date. Sherlock couldn't remember who it was this time. He never did [useless data]. But something about this date was different and Sherlock, unnervingly, couldn't put his finger on it. It was obviously a date: new jumper, brown shoes, hair gel, taking extra care when he clattered around the bathroom humming loudly and being,well,happy.  
Irratating.  
Sherlock flopped around so his face was pressed into the was glad-no,erase that, not-glad...irratated...annoyed...yes,annoyed [why was he annoyed?} that John was going on the obviously made him happy, in ways that spending time with Sherlock and chasing after criminals did not.  
Sherlock frowned. Why? Wasn't the cases enough? Sherlock thought they were. At least, the tremors in his hands subsided when they were racing through the alleys and back streets of London. So if this was true, why date? Sherlock had never been on a 'date' but he heard of them and how awkward they were, the 'small talk' and then the sex. Sherlock didn't have anything against sex. Sherlock was,as Mycroft implied, a virgin, but not because he didn't have the chance. He just didn't have any interest in letting himself lose control in that way.  
John whistled as he walked through with his keys. "I'll be late." and he was had gone out with Jake ten times in the past three weeks. They didn't go anywhere overly extravagant, just out for pizza, museums, art walks,etc but it was wonderful. They didn't snog or even hold hands which was wonderful as well. John was very cautious going into a new relationship -especially with a man- and it mean a lot to him that Jake would consider his feelings as was a nice change from his madman of a flatmate. Last night he hung a lung from the ceiling fan and turned it on "just to see what would happen." John had to paint over the walls, the blood stains were so bad.  
So these dates, his 'bit of normalcy' as he came to think of them, were very/nice.

Jake never interrupted him and even let John prattle on. And best of all,Sherlock /never/ showed up. Sure,Sherlock tried his usual tricks of texting " your assistance at once.-SH" but John knew better and turned off his cellphone as soon as he was out of 221B.

XOXO

Sherlock slid off the couch and watched from the window until John disappeared around the could have followed him and never be detected- he was quite skillful at disguising himself- but he knew that John would be disappointed in him if he did. Sherlock scowled and sank back into the sofa into his 'concentrating' position: eyes closed, hands folded under his chin as if he was praying to the ceiling. Why was this date so different? And since when did he,Sherlock, care if John was disappointed in him? Sherlock closed his eyes and entered his Mind Palace.  
XOXO

John rolled his eyes as he reached for his popcorn. "It's a public know, doctor, stiff upper lip and all of that."  
Jake frowned "I don't read the tales and lies. Besides who cares what others think, y'know?"  
"God I could kiss you." John went red. "Oh God I didn't mean it like that..I mean.."  
"What's stopping you?"  
John couldn't remember the ride could remember was Jake's mouth on his...God it felt so good...John sank onto the sofa with a loud sigh. Sherlock didn't even look up from the microscope.  
"Good date? What was her name again? Mary? Maria?"  
John thought about telling him but then that would just give Sherlock more reason to be more smug and annoying than he already was."Nancy."  
"Right. I see you finally kissed her .No-she kissed you. But something is different this time." Sherlock stared at him now, tapping his chin with a delicate forefinger.  
John smirked "I'm off to bed. Early day tomorrow." and went to his room,shutting the door firmly behind him. John toed out of his shoes and flopped onto his was asleep in minutes and dreamed of Jake all night.

XOXO  
John and Jake texted quite a bit over the next month. John was busy at the clinic and only got to see Jake at the occasional lunch and the weekends but they stayed in constant touch.  
_Fancy trying the new Lebanese place tomorrow?-JOL_  
_Sure! 6 o'clock? Why don't you sign your name as just JL? -JW_  
_Sounds good -JOL_  
_And it's because my last name is O'Donald. -JOL_  
_Oh do you have a farm? -JW_  
_Shut up or I will revoke all snogging privlages-JOL_  
_Touchy touchy -JW_  
_Keen are we?-JOL_  
_Bugger off -JW_  
_:x xoxo -JOL_  
_I keep thinking it says LOL ...or Jolly.-JW_  
_You can call me what ever you'd like ;) -JOLLY_  
_How about mad? -JW_  
_Only about you. Which reminds me,have you told your Madman Flatmate about us?-JOLLY_  
_No. JW _  
_About that .What are we exactly?-JW_  
_Well, what would you like to be?-JOLLY_  
_Happy-JW_  
_That's settled then. We are happy.-JOLLY_  
_;) -JW_

_xoxo-JOLLY_

XOXOX

Sherlock shoved the files aside with a sigh,This case was proving to be very... irritating. Sherlock crossed over to the desk and picked up John's phone and began to flip through the [Sent] box. Sherlock had John send a text out for him at the same time the last vic was being gutted but Sherlock couldn't remember the exact time. Very not-good. Sherlock considered going in for an MRI [stroke? possible brain tumor...]as he flicked through the texts but was torn away from these thoughts as he noticed the high volume of messages between John and 'JOLLY'. He never heard of John mention a Jolly. A pet name, maybe?

Curiosity got the better of him and,making sure John was still in the shower, he read through them. There were well over 300 texts, mostly talking about crap telly and food. Sherlock quickly read through the latest sent/ received messages:

_Sounds good -JOL_  
_And it's because my last name is O'Donald. -JOL_  
_Oh do you have a farm? -JW_  
_Shut up or I will revoke all snogging privlages-JOL_  
_Touchy touchy -JW_  
_Keen are we?-JOL_  
_Bugger off -JW_  
_:x xoxo -JOL_  
_I keep thinking it says LOL ...or Jolly.-JW_  
_You can call me what ever you'd like ;) -JOLLY_  
_How about mad? -JW_  
_Only about you. Which reminds me,have you told your Madman Flatmate about us?-JOLLY_  
_No. JW _  
_About that .What are we exactly?-JW_  
_Well, what would you like to be?-JOLLY_  
_Happy-JW_  
_That's settled then. We are happy.-JOLLY_  
_;) -JW_  
_xoxo-JOLLY_

Sherlock frowned. John always tells him about his girlfriends. What made this one so different that John hid her existence from him? He had to find out.

XOXO

Sherlock asked John over breakfast 3 days later. "So how's your girlfriend then?"  
John tried not to drop the butter knife.  
"She's fine." John said carefully.  
"Why don't you have her round?"  
"So you can deduce her and make her cry? No, not going to happen. I am not going to expose some poor girl to your mad ramblings and expect her to stay sane, let alone still want to be with me. End of discussion." That was the last thing John said the rest of the morning.

XOXO  
_He asked about you this morning. Well, actually he asked about my latest girlfriend-JW_  
_So I'm the girl am I ? Well, I did make the best soufflee you've ever had-JOLLY_  
_True true -JW_  
_So what did you say?-JOLLY_  
_I told him I am not going to expose some poor girl to your mad ramblings and expect her to stay sane, let alone still want to be with me. Knowing Sherlock,though, he'll keep pesterting me til I give in.-JW_  
_Stay Strong ;) JOLLY_  
_As always -JW_

John would have to be more careful. And start deleting his message history.

XOXOX

_Mycroft.-SH_  
_Yes ?-MH_  
_I need to do me a favor-SH_  
_I'm not going to shoot someone just because they don't deliver-MH_  
_ that's not it. I need all prior and on-going messager sent to and from the number [REDACTED] as soon as possible.-SH_  
_That's John's number, is it not?-MH_  
_Not important. Send them all to my private email.-SH_  
_My,my, what would John think, browsing through his texts like a jealous girlfriend?-MH_  
_Shut up.-SH_

_The messages?-SH_

_Yes-MH_  
_...I owe you one-SH_  
_At the very least-MH_


	14. Jealousy

Jake had been pestering John to have dinner at his place for once,instead of other way round and after 6 weeks, John finally gave in.  
"Fine but don't say I didn't warn you."  
"Hmmm you're worth the risk."  
xoxoxoxo  
John set Sherlock's tea by the microscope and sank into his armchair. "So erm, I'm having my date round tonight."  
"Ending it then?"  
"No!" John burst out. He saw Sherlock's face-carefully calm- and sighed. He didn't mean anything by it; Sherlock was just being Sherlock (as if that wasn't scary enough). John took a deep breath and said a bit calmer: "No I was just ...he wanted to meet you."  
Sherlock's hands paused on the knobs. "Did /he/?"  
John blushed down at his tea "Yeah, well, we've been dating six months so it's long over due..He's a banker but not at all stuffy. We get along quite well,actually."  
"He?"  
John sighed preparing himself for the worst. "Yes, .A man. Anything else? He'll be here any-"  
"You're dating a man?"  
"Now who's repeating himself?" John smirked.  
Sherlock grumbled but not loud enough for John to hear. This was not good. John could feel his will to live slowly ebbing away. He clenched his fists tightly to prevent himself from throttling his flatmate. Sherlock was going to scare Jake off,or he was going to deduce him. Both,most he should just call it off before any real damage was done...He reached for his mobile just as the doorbell chimed. Sherlock's eyes darted to the stairs but John was up on his feet and already half way down before Sherlock could move. He made it half way down before he had a thought. He dashed up the stairs,two at time, and looked round the corner. "Take the head out of the oven will you?And be nice."  
Sherlock looked after him,confusion filling his face. "When am I not my adorable self?"  
John shot him a Look before heading down to let Jake in.

Sherlock crossed into the went into the kitchen and tried to ignore the voices but he couldn't help but overhear. They were at the Landing, for Pete's sake.  
"Mmmm you taste strawberries."  
"That'll be the jam."  
"Mmmm I prefer the taste of John better."  
A giggle, and quiet whispers of clothing. They were deeply by the sounds of stomped to the oven and removed the head,letting the oven door slam. He shoved the toaster off with an elbow to make room for the head, and it hit the floor with a metallic clang that could be heard throughout the flat. There was a pause and Sherlock could hear John curse.

"That would be Sherlock,sorry. He 's in a bit of a mood.I swear he 's like a bloody child. Listen,Jake ,are you sure you want to do this?"  
"Yes, John. You're valuable to me."  
"Says the man who collects stamps."  
A giggle and a sigh then -footsteps, and John came in,red-faced, leading another man behind him. The man-Jake-smiled at Sherlock "Hello, you must be the Madman Flatmate." and proffered his hand  
[40 years old,slightly ginger, banker, smooth hands, firm grip, hands soft to the touch from caressing John? NO DELETE...] John was looking at Sherlock and,catching his his eye,John gave a curt jerk of his chin. He said nothing but Sherlock understood: Not this One. Sherlock dropped his hand,resisting the urge to wipe his hand on his jeans leg. "Quite."  
John wrapped an arm around Jake's waist and led him away from where Sherlock was still standing. "Let me show you the rest of the flat."

The evening passed quickly for John, but time dragged by like molasses for Sherlock; Jake didn't leave enough, even after the incidient with the camel spiders.

John and Jake spent most of the evening hiding out in the kitchen.'Took cook dinner' John said but all Sherlock heard was them and flirting and tossed around tried to focus on an experiment in the living room but dammit they were too /distracting/.

Finally he had enough of the kissing and sounds there of;Sherlock stood and stomped off to his room closing the door behind him with a didn't come out when John announced dinner was ready. He didn't even come out when he had to urinate. It wasn't that he was afraid of what he'd see. He was afraid of his were there tonight and they were unpredictable. As were his possible reactions to what was beyond his bedroom door. It wasn't that he was jealous {boring}.It was just he wasn't feeling too well and,as a result,his reactions would be...could be...NO: WOULD be unpredictable and that was , that is what Sherlock told himself but he knew all this time, all the cases, the danger which Sherlock and John both /thrived/ on John was /there/...there was boring,banker who John spent every free moment he had with. What if Jake asked John to move in? Would he? Would John leave him Sherlock just like /that/ ?Such thoughts made him physically sick and,well, if he'd admit to himself, panicked, So Sherlock worked on experiments in his room,never reemerging til his pressing bladder needed immediate relief. He opened the door-and froze.

John was wrapped around Jake on the sofa, kissing softly, their hands exploring. Sherlock felt a twinge he recognized as what jealousy ? Sherlock nearly snorted. He didn't /do/ feelings, let alone ones of such possession. He wasn't was there to be jealous of ? The caressing? was sentiment. But then again...the thought of him in Jake's place drew heat, made his skin prickle and vision waver.

Sherlock closed the door of the bathroom behind him urinated then sat there in the dark, /not/ thinking until long after he heard Jake leave and John went up to his then did Sherlock emerge.

He stood at the stairs for the longest time going over tonight-what he had seen and,most alarmingly, what he had /felt/ .He undoubtedly felt jealous over someone else /touching/ John. No one else was allowed wasn't enough he went out on dates,but bringing them here? It was torture. Sherlock hadn't felt this out of control since he was a toddler and his Father banned him from the library.

He stood in the darkness at the base of the stairs until dawn and John's alarm heard the creak of the bed-John was waking up-and headed into his room again, locking the door behind him with a click.  
He was /caring/ for someone, and it made him weak, Jealous,UNPREDICTABLE=vulnerable.  
Not good.

xoxo  
Then it happened: A week later John didn't come when Sherlock needed him for a case.

To say Sherlock was distraught would be making light of the smoked a whole pack of cigarettes and managed to make Donovan cry and Lestrade threatened to ban him from crime scenes for a this was in the first walked home to Baker Street in a rage. He considered using again-he knew John would come running if he found out, but then again John would be very upset with him, may even hit good. John may even leave. VERY not good. Shelrock wanted John with him,HOME,where he belonged, not just for sleeping and changing clothes. He belonged here watching crap telly and making Sherlock tea. Sherlock shook his head,disgusted at himself. What had he become?  
He solved the case at half past 4 the next morning but he did not get the rush he usually was the missing was the key

John.  
John.  
John.  
Maybe even /seeing/ him would help...

xoxoxoxo  
John rolled over his sleep- and nearly fell out of the bed. Sherlock stood in his door way,watching him silently. John jerked the covers over himself. He only slept in boxers and he did not want his mad flatmate to see his...bits and pieces. There are just some things flatmate don't share.  
"What the HELL Sherlock?"  
"I finished the case."  
"You couldn't text me?"  
"I did."  
"Bloody Hell it's -FUCK-4 in the morning."  
Sherlock frowned "I've angered you."  
"No shit Sherlock!" John yelled then instantly regretted it. "Sherlock, you can kip on the sofa if you'd like."  
"No,I'm returning to Baker Street. I'll call you in the morning."  
John woke up the next morning not sure if that had really happened or if it was just a very irritating dream.


	15. Tesco's (If you Say Exactly I'll Scream)

The touches all but stopped, save for a few instances of brushing fingers when passing Sherlock him his tea, otherwise everything went back to normal. Well, /Sherlock Holmes/ normal at least.  
John paused in the middle of Aisle 5 and shook his head. He knew asking Sherlock to make a grocery list would be a mistake but... He pulled out his cellphone :  
Vaseoline, latex gloves size Large, pickles? I am not amused, Sherlock-JW  
Don't question it John. -SH  
No,no I actually want to know, Sherlock, WHAT THE FUCK? And please don't reply 'exactly' or I may scream -JW  
It's for an experiment -SH  
What kind of bloody experiment requires-you know what,forget it-JW

You know better than to ask questions you dont want the answer to -SH

I just cursed and an old lady hitme with he bag . -JW

Well you shouldn't curse in the presence of the elderly, not my fault -SH

You really are a pain in the arse. And I pegged you as an asexual-JW

First impressions aren't always correct. -SH

So I was ...right?-JW

No, please don't reply. I'll just ...stay away for a while -JW

Until you get that out of your system.-JW

Erm...I meant the experiment-JW

Not the pickle-JW

Oh God I'm babbling via text. Ignore me-JW

Are you going to be home anytime soon? -SH

Headed to the checkout queue now-JW

[delayed] Sherlock, remind me to kill you when I get home. The chip and pin machines are down so had to go through a regular cashier. The looks I got...then someone reconized me as "Sherlock's little assistant" -JW

Thats fantastic -SH

NOT IT'S BLOODY WELL NOT FANTASTIC-JW

OH GOD Anderson is here. WHY ?! Oh God. Am going to make a run for it before the Queen herself shows-JW

This is the most entertainment I've had all week. -SH

I hate you -JW

No you don't-SH

Want to bet?-JW

Also,do tell Anderson I said Hello, and if he gives you a message back, tell him I said to shut up -SH

NO I WILL NOT -JW

[Delayed] In cab now; be there in 15 .Prepare to die-JW

I'm waiting -SH

For your my arrival or your imminent death? Or both? -JW

Just waiting is all. My experiment is complete, so I'm bored again -SH

So do you still need the Branstons, gloves, etc ?-JW

That was the experiment, a study on human embarrassment in public situations, in reference to the bystander effect. Social experiments are not /quite/ as fascinating as Chemistry or the /real/ sciences, but still interesting.-SH

You can learn quite a bit about someone by how they behave when abashed-SH

I hate you.-JW

No you don't -SH

Fuck yourself and your bloody pickles -JW

John angrily mashed the power button on his cell phone and shoved it inside his jacket as the cab pulled up outside 221B. He was going to KILL Sherock. John stomped up the stairs and kicked the door open, letting it hit the opposite wall with a satisfying bang.  
"You BASTARD." Jon's face was red . "You complete and utter in the HELL would you do that to me? Why not do it yourself? Oh,yes,right you're the great Sherlock Holmes." "John threw his hands in the air, quite an effect combined with massive eye-rolling, "And getting off your arse and doing anything for yourself is beneath you and your your-" John sputtered. "MASSIVE intellect" John finally threw -well, hurled- the bag at Sherlock's head. Unfortunately it missed,and their was the sound of shattering glass as the pickle jar smashed against the wall above Sherlock's head. "I'm never speaking you again. And it's not like when you shaved the cat in my bed, I mean it this time. I'm going to Jake's."  
"I'll use again."  
John whirled in the doorway to glare at him. "Guilt isn't going to work here,Sherlock."  
"Don't be so melodramatic.I need it.I'm BORED of my skull. I haven't had a case in 2 weeks. I /need/ it."  
"Yes well I hope they make you very happy. "  
"John,I'm an addict."  
John shrugged as if to say "And?"  
"I need you here as a doctor.I can't guarantee one hit would ease my if I OD?"  
"Good. One less psychopath to worry about."  
John slammed the door behind passed the following three days at Jake's.


	16. Dandelions

[July 30th]

They were in the park, reclining in the sun, at John's insistence of course. After their last fight John had gone out and gotten very and sloppily drunk, going from pub to pub until he was so drunk not even the seediest pub in London would take him. John returned to 221B at 4 AM,punched Sherlock and collapsed on the couch to sleep for 18 hours The two had fought every day since,sniping at each other from the moment they were up until John hand enough and stomped to his room, and today was no better;John had burnt the toast .In retaliation Sherlock had burnt John's favorite jumper. After yelling at each other for 10 minutes John was quiet then "We need to get out of this damn flat." which is how they found themselves sitting in the grass in the middle of Regent's Park.

John rolled over onto his back and stretched. "See this isn't so bad is it?"

Sherlock poked at a pile of dog poo with a stick but remained rolled his eyes

John huffed "Don't you /ever/ relax?" He pulled a tuft of grass up and threw it, blade by blade, at Sherlock. They clung to his hair,already at end by the occasional passing breeze. John giggled. "Much improvement."

Sherlock shook his head and ruffled his hair, letting the grass fall onto his shoulders. "Yes that was just what I need, dirt in my hair." Sherlock grabbed a handful of grass and a few blades from his lap and threw it lazily back over to John.

John giggled. "Lay down,relax. Don't you ever relax? " He put an arm and stared into the sky. "I used to do this, for ages, when I was younger, just watch the clouds and at night I would watch the was so much easier then."

Sherlock snorted. "Life wasn't actually easier,John, it just seemed that way because you lived in a semi-symbiotic relationship,your needs completely taken care of by your parents." but Sherlock put his head to the grass, his hands behind it acting like a pillow. "Life is never easy." He mumbled, closing his eyes, the light from the sun looking red behind his eyelids. He took a deep breath, stretching slightly.

John watched him out of the corner of his eye. "Do you ever wish you could back in time, and change things? Who you met and what you said?"

"Really,John, you watch too many Science that one with the man with the chin"

It took John a moment before he realized Sherlock was talking about Doctor Who. "No you twat. I meant, you know, regrets. Going back, changing what you've said or done?"

Sherlock pondered for a few seconds. "What would I change?" Sherlock asked, more rhetorically and to himself, but he was sure John heard it anyway.  
"Would you change meeting me?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John thought back to the arguments the last week, all the fighting, the yelling, the threat of using and a possible OD (Sherlock) and his own callous reply (**Good. One less psychopath to worry about**). Then he thought about "**This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever done",**Buck Palace, sheets, giggling at crime scenes.

"No,Sherlock. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned to look at John. "Really? Even though I burnt your jumpers and made you watch me jump and I lied to you and drugged your tea and put blood in the milk and -"

John groaned "Bloody Hell Sherlock shut up.I /hate/ that.I hate that you made me jump.I-I still have nightmares about it, did you know that? I still see you falling, hearing the crunch of your body hitting-" John took a shaky breath -"hitting the pavement." John closed his eyes, laying an arm across them. "And sometimes it's me up on the roof, pushing you and it's all my fault...it's all my fault." John turned his back to Sherlock and shuddered trying to keep from breaking but tears slid down his face. He knew it was pathetic,him, a middle-aged doctor crying in the sunshine in the middle of the park but once he started he couldn't a dam breaking the tears poured.

Sherlock beside him went stiff when John turned his back to him. His heart hurt knowing it was /him/ that made John cry. He'd vowed to never let it happen again and he failed John. Sherlock blinked. His John? Where did that come from? Sherlock shoved that thought aside for later rumination and sat up next to John. "John I-" He reached out a hand to touch john, offer some form of comfort like he'd seen others do but he panicked at the last moment and dropped his hand to the grass instead. He ran his fingers through it,ruffling the blades. "John." he whispered. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt 're too important to me." He watched a man and woman walking together in the distance, not holding hands but close enough their shoulders bumped [**Not dating, friends, he's an engineer, she's a sales clerk, just friends but she wants him and he wants her, afraid to tell each other-she's dating someone, a fish monger, abusive, bruises on her arm where he grabbed her and shoved her into the wall last wishes him dead, nothing vicious [boring] -she wants to be free to want [dull]...known each other a year,attraction from the start given small glances between them, stolen moments just like...**] Sherlock blinked. Like what? He tried to finish the thought but it kept sputtering to a stop. He looked down at John to ask him and found to his horror he'd been stroking John's side and,even worse,John had turned over slightly too look quizzically up him. Sherlock withdrew his hand as if it had been burnt. "Sorry I was -sorry."

John grinned at him **[Brilliant smile,true smile-reaches his eyes scrunch up at the corners, lights behind eyes,dancing, face flushed ? .Being touched in public, much less another man]**. Sherlock dropped his hand to the grass again, smoothing it around a singular dandelion. "I'm sorry." he said again, flatly.

John sighed. "It's okay,Lock.I'm sorry you had to see that." John scrubbed a hand over his face. "Going to make a wish?"

Sherlock had been distracted by the nickname **[Sentiment]** so the question knocked him off-balance. "What?"

John jerked his chin at the dandelion. "On the dandelion." At Sherlock's blank look John sighed. "Right of course,deleted." He reached over Sherlock [**Smelled good, like tea,peppermint -changed his toothpaste girlfriend?- fish and chips they had for lunch, fresh smell of cut grass lingering on him from laying in the Park]** and plucked the dandelion. He sat back, dandelion held up in three fingers. "We used to do this in Primary you find a dandelion you are supposed to pluck it,close your eyes and make a wish."

Sherlock huffed."John be reasonable. Making a wish upon a common lawn weed will bring you no more luck then wishing upon a rock or a-a-lump of snot!"

John threw his head back and laughed so hard and long his side hurt. "God,Sherlock." He wiped his eyes, still giggling. "It's not about /what/ you wish upon,Sherlock.I suppose it has more to do with belief in something ." John knocked shoulders with Sherlock. "Sentiment." He giggled at Sherlock's expression "Look,I'll show you, but watch closely." John held up a forefinger,face deadly serious "It's magic."

Sherlock opened his mouth to interject but John held up a hand "MAGIC Sherlock." He shot him a grin and closed his eyes. "Watching?" Sherlock grumbled under his breath but John ignored it."OK let me think of a wish..."

The wind ruffled the edges of John's hair,setting them strands caught in the sun and shimmered and shone,giving John the effect of having a halo. Sherlock nearly laughed .Belief in a higher power . Sentiment. Boring. Makes you weak. Sherlock looked back at John's face to tell him his own thoughts but hesitated. John still had his eyes closed in concentration. His eyelashes were long,slightly curling on the end,nearly touching his cheek. Sherlock leaned in. He couldn't tell what color they were-not as light as his but darker, like a rich caramel color. Sherlock's eyes traveled down the doctor's face to the bridge of his noses [**small smattering of freckles across noticed them .**] to his cheeks [**light flush of pink,touched by the longed to reach out and touch John's skin, see if it was warm to the touch but that was Not Good -possibly]** down his smooth philtrum to his lips **[ chap stick this girlfriend smooth and not very 's Bow thin but not overly thin-shaped quite nicely**]. Sherlock watched the lips slowly curve into a smile. "Sherlock?"

He couldn't take his eyes off his mouth** [Why? It's not that spectacular, thin lips, fairly common, nothing fascinating about them**] "Yes?"

"I know what I'm going to wish for." John licked his lips and slowly blow seeds fluffed up and out on the breeze. They caught the sun and shimmered and danced,spinning and bouncing like ballerinas on a stage but still Sherlock couldn't tear his eyes away from John's face.

"Erm, Sherlock?"

Sherlock's eyes shot to John's. John smiled uncertainly at his friend "Are you OK? You look a bit peaky.."

Sherlock sat back [**He saw me staring. Think of a lie-NO-do /not/ lie to John. I made a of something...quick.] Sherlock's eyes flicked over the doctor's face [Something,something..AH!**] "Your philtrum is very wide in proportion to your face."

John huffed and threw the dandelion at him. "You're mad, do you know that?" He climbed to his feet and started to brush grass off his legs.

Sherlock followed his lead and did the same. "Dinner?" Sherlock asked hopefully.

John nodded "Sounds good but -" John giggled and reached up to Sherlock's neck- "May want to get rid of the grass first."

Sherlock frowned "What grass?"

"This one." and he dropped a handful of grass down the back of Sherlock's collar.


	17. A Pound of Flesh (Literally)

[July 31st]

[Sent: 09:21:35] A pound of flesh? Really?-JW

[Received 09:22:00] Ah, you found it.I had misplaced it was it?-SH

[Sent 09:25:16] It was on my pillow.I /cuddled/ it before I realized what it was-JW

[Received 09:26:10] Did you? Funny;makes me wonder what sort of women you keep with. -SH

[Sent 09:28;12] No, not funny.I shrieked like a girl and fell off my bed-JW

[Received 09:30:35] That is actually quite amusing-SH

[Sent: 09:33:42] I had to go to A&E and get checked for a concussion-JW

[Received: 09:34:09] Did you?-SH

[Sent: 09:35:36] It took me about ten minutes before I realized I still had the flesh with me and was petting a cat-JW

[Received: 09:37:02] Did you at least get to keep the flesh?-SH

[Sent: 09:40:40] Keep the -no I bloody well did not keep it you wanker !-JW

[Sent: 11:02:13] Are you going to come bail me out of jail or not?-JW

[Received: 11:42:13] On my way -SH


	18. Yo,Adrian !

[2nd Week August]

John took up jogging again after Sherlock...well, let's just say there were spiders and glycerine involved. John had been slow to react and ended up in the A&E covered in camel spider bites. Not an experience he'd like to repeat. John used to be quick on his feet;dodging unfriendlies in Afghanistan did that to now...John limped slowly into the living room and peeled his shirt off. He swiped his face and chest with it,throwing it vaguely in the direction of the laundry room and flopped bonelessly into his armchair "I am /never/ doing that again."

Greg -here with a box of cold cases to prevent Sherlock burning the flat down -raised an eyebrow. "Where the Hell did you go,Dublin?"

Sherlock snorted "Dublin is exactly 364.4 miles away in Ireland, an /island/ that measures over 84,421 km squared. Not only is it impossible to jog there unless he has developed speed comparable to a Peregrine Falcon,which he obviously hasn't, John was gone a mere hour,giving him barely enough time to jog round to Islington let alone another country."

John heaved a sigh. "Sherlock..." but he was too /tired/ to get into it with the insufferable man-child and just sighed again.A rivulet of sweat trickled down his chest and he lazily swiped at 's eyes followed the chest tightened and he had a sudden urge to lick the sweat off his chest, carefully,slowly run his tongue down John's tanned chest to his navel,where the hair disappeared under his waistband, which he'd slowly peel off with his teeth, his hands caressing the smooth skin of John's muscular thighs - Sherlock's fingers clenched on the cardboard box before him but Lestrade and John didn't notice. Of course they didn't. They never notice; that was Sherlock's depended on him to notice as they went on with their lives,small and petty, and were more concerned about social conventions [I'm not gay] ,useless 'general knowledge' trivia which isn't general knowledge unless you had the IQ of a snow pear. Case in point:

"I felt like I needed Eye of the Tiger playing, get me going."

Sherlock blinked at him "What?"

Greg laughed, slapping Sherlock on the back (quite hard,actually)..."We're going to have to have a movie night."

John giggled. "God wait til he sees the Matrix." and Greg guffawed. John,still giggling, ruffled Sherlock's hair as he passed by to the bathroom,removing his clothes as he went. He was too tired and sore to care about if Greg and Sherlock saw him. Sherlock would never be interested in him in 4848344723 years anyways unless he was dead and chopped up into mince meat pies and sold in London. John grimaced at the thought- best not to put /that/ idea in his for an experiment- and bent down to turn the shower on.

Sherlock concentrated hard on the files before him but the words were blurred. He blinked slowly and looked up to find Greg was watching him over the rim of his tea cup. He elbowed Sherlock "Not half bad is he?" and winked.  
Sherlock scoffed and flopped into his pulled his violin into his lap,and plucked at the strings. "I assure you I have no clue what you're talking about."  
Greg laughed. "Fine,fine just...try not to blow anything up,yeah?"


End file.
